


Christmas Dinner At The Garrison

by JEAikman



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Christmas Dinner, Christmas Fluff, Cooking, Family, Friendship, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Christmas had not been a huge affair at the d'Artagnan household since Charles' mother had died. But now, even though his father was gone, he had gained a new family in all of his fellow Musketeers – three in particular, but he wanted to do something nice for the whole garrison.</i>
</p>
<p>Pretty self explanatory. Musketeers have Christmas dinner.</p>
<p>Potatoes cooked in goose fat make an appearance. Because Christmas.</p>
<p>Happy holidays, everyone!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Dinner At The Garrison

Christmas had not been a huge affair at the d'Artagnan household since Charles' mother had died. But now, even though his father was gone, he had gained a new family in all of his fellow Musketeers – three in particular, but he wanted to do something nice for the whole garrison.

On the salary of a Musketeer, they could hardly afford an extravagant meal, so d'Artagnan decided he would put the money he had saved up for that month to good use, and searched around for the fattest geese he could find. Being a farmer's lad proved useful in haggling with the sellers, and soon he had two decently sized birds, which he strolled into the garrison with. Some of the men looked up, and the stable boy's eyes in particular lit up.

“Is that for us, Monsieur d'Artagnan?”

“Jacques,” he scolded fondly. “I am barely two years older than you. I've told you already to call me Charles. And they are indeed – is Serge here?”

The old cook appeared from the garrison kitchen with a wrinkled smile.

“Aye, lad, I am – and a fine feast you've bought for us. I'm sure I'll think of something to make with that.”  
“About that – my mother had a special recipe for goose, and she taught me when I was still quite young – do you mind if I help?” Serge didn't mind at all, and they were soon on their way to making the heartiest Christmas meal that the Garrison had ever enjoyed.

 

Soon enough, Athos, Porthos and Aramis strolled into the garrison.

“Has anyone seen d'Artagnan?” Aramis asked their fellow soldiers. “We can't find him anywhere, and we're worried he might have gotten in trouble again.”

 

Jacques took their horses and shook his head with a smile.

“Nah, he's fine, just helping Serge with Christmas dinner.” He told them happily as he walked off to stable the horses.

The Inseparables looked to each other, and decided to check in on their youngest.

Their youngest who seemed to be ordering the old garrison chef around in the kitchen. To any who knew Serge, it was a baffling sight to say the least, since he never allowed anyone in his kitchen, and on the rare occasions that he did, the assistant would have to work in absolute silence and do exactly as instructed.

“And you have to cook the potatoes in the fat that comes off the bird – they're the best potatoes I have ever tasted.” d'Artagnan was saying. “And I'll make some onion soup as a starter.” Deciding that it was better to leave him to it just now, and realising that this was a chance to organise presents without their youngest knowing, the three took off to their apartments, happy that d'Artagnan hadn't gotten himself into trouble, and that he would be kept busy by his task for a few more hours at least.

 

Kitchen work was time consuming and exhausting, but d'Artagnan was taken back to his childhood by the smells that rose from the roasting meat. When he chopped the onions for the soup, it was more than just that they made his eyes water. Christmas had always meant a time for family, and now he had a whole new one, he wanted to show them just how much it meant to him – how much _they_ all meant to him by doing this for them.

 

The captain looked in on them at some point, drawn by the smells that reminded him of home cooked dinners in Gascony. He hadn't had a dinner like that in the longest time, and now that he could smell it, he couldn't wait to eat it.

 

When eventually it was time to serve the food, their wasn't one empty bench or table in the garrison. Jacques came to help the two of them plate up, the soup first, which d'Artagnan had worked hard on, and spent tears that stung is eyes over. Everyone lapped it up greedily and they all agreed that it warmed them down to the bones. Then came the main course, goose with potatoes that roasted in its fat whilst it cooked. The reception of this course was even warmer. Athos caught d'Artagnan's eye and grinned, and Porthos came up and bear-hugged him. Aramis merely gave a dip of his hat, but it warmed d'Artagnan's heart all the same. Treville came up to him and personally thanked him for giving the men of the garrison the best Christmas they had for as long as anyone could remember, over everyone's chatter and reminiscing. D'Artagnan coloured at the praise.

“Christmas isn't Christmas in Gascony if it's not one shared by the whole family, Captain.” He told him, and Treville chuckled good naturedly

“Aye, that's true enough. And speaking of family, it looks like your brothers over there want you for something.” he said, indicating with a nod of his head to where Athos, Porthos and Aramis were sitting. Aramis waved. D'Artagnan rolled his eyes and hurried over to his dearest friends.

 

“That was quite the feast you served up, Charles.” Athos told him kindly, and d'Artagnan grinned.

“Aye,” Porthos agreed. “I haven't eaten that well in months – where on earth did you get the money to buy two fat geese?”  
“Unlike _you_ lot, I don't waste it on wine or gambling. I actually save my money.” d'Artagnan replied with a cheeky grin

“And you used it to buy the garrison Christmas dinner?”

“Christmas is family time” d'Artagnan argued with a smile, “and since the garrison _is_ my family now, it seemed only right.” His friends looked to each other with a smile, and then all at once enfolded him in a group hug.

“Guys!” he shouted, but it was with fondness. With the arms of his older brothers around him at Christmas, it felt like he was home at last.


End file.
